


Invictus

by unknownbananna



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknownbananna/pseuds/unknownbananna
Summary: Halt, Will, Evanlyn, and Horace follow Erak back to Hallasholm at the beginning of book four to warn Ragnak about the Temujai. Hallasholm prepares to defend herself against these fierce invaders with the help of the four Araluens. The battle against the Temujai is just beginning, but Will is fighting his own battle as his memories from the Yard return in pieces. Meanwhile, Evanlyn desperately tries to repress her own trauma, Halt worries that he's not enough to hold Will together and keep them all alive, and Horace watches, helpless, as his friends crumble to pieces in front of him. All the while the Temujai draw closer.(Chapters from a more realistic book four, equal parts angst and h/c. A hopeful ending after a rocky journey.)
Relationships: Cassandra | Evanlyn & Will Treaty, Halt O'Carrick & Will Treaty
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	Invictus

**Author's Note:**

> (See end notes for potential trigger warnings.)

_This is the Hour of Lead_ —  
 _Remember, if outlived,_  
 _As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow_ — _  
_ _First_ — _Chill_ — _then Stupor_ — _then the letting go_ —

_\- from "372", Emily Dickinson_

* * *

Hallasholm lay nestled in between the mountains, a jumble of buildings and maze-streets snug against the quay. Even from the mountain Halt could see thick curls of smoke rising from homes across the city. Snow still lay blanketed across the rooftops despite the thaw. It looked quaint.

It looked cold.

Halt glanced over at his apprentice. Will's cowl was up, his face obscured. But he was no closed book to Halt. What little of his face could be seen was pale and drawn.

And little wonder, Halt thought. Hallasholm might be picturesque, but Will's time there had been anything but.

Subtly, he nudged Abelard so that he was closer to his apprentice. He didn't say anything—there was no point in asking about the source of Will's anxiety when they both knew it already. But he saw Will's shoulders relax at his new proximity. All these years later, and Halt still marveled at the unshakable faith his apprentices had in him, that even his presence was enough to chase some of their fear away. He hoped with everything he had he wouldn't let Will down.

The truth was, he knew—and he hated—that Will and Evanlyn's safety was in Erak's hands now. Not his. If Ragnak decided to take back the two former captives, there was little Halt would be able to do about it, captive as he was himself (effectively, at least). It would be up to Erak to step in. And, Halt thought grimly, there was every chance that he would have to.

Halt knew things weren't looking good even beyond that. The Araluens had no hope of crossing the border to Teutlandt—not while the Temujai held the mountain passes. They had little hope of leaving Skandia by sea, and if they did, they doomed the only buffer between the Temujai and their own homeland. Then, it would only be a matter of time before Araluen was besieged with no hope of help from the continent. No. Their options were to fight and push the Temujai back, or—.

Halt bit his lip. Hallasholm, in all its snowy tranquility, lay waiting for them the way a dead-end cave tempted a wounded bear fleeing her hunter. A place to hide. A place to fight or die.

Either the bear would limp out when all was said and done, or the hunter would.

Either they would win this fight, Halt knew, or they would die here—and it wouldn't matter whether they were counted slave or free.

* * *

Ragnak's great hall was more or less what Halt had expected. It felt to Will like a dimly recalled scene from another life. The ceiling was low and the room was long, but it was well-lit by oil lamps along the walls. The room was dominated by a lengthy, rectangular table—Halt guessed it served double for holding council and dinner, as Skandians typically were fond of doing business over food and drink. Ragnak sat at the table's end with several of what Halt assumed to be his advisors. When the party walked in, led by Erak, he halted his conversation and turned his attention toward them.

"Erak! Welcome back."

Erak nodded his greetings to the Oberjarl as he started forward, walking down the table's right side. The Araluens followed suit (a little slower, since Halt refused to jog in order to keep up with the massive Skandian's long stride). "Ragnak," Erak acknowledged with a tilt of his head. "I have important news."

Ragnak's left eyebrow rose. He must have recognized the urgency in Erak's voice. He seemed shrewd, Halt thought with some hope. That boded well for them. "And you've brought guests?"

Erak came to a stop before Ragnak at the end of the table. "They're part of the news," he said as the Araluens came to a stop behind him.

Ragnak frowned in interest, surveying the obviously foreign group. But Borsa's face was already alight with recognition. "Oberjarl—those are the two escaped slaves, from the winter."

Ragnak leaned forward. They did look familiar, he thought. But he wasn't typically the one to deal with such matters. That was Borsa's area of expertise, and he would cede the matter to him. "So they are," he agreed.

Erak stepped forward and cut in. "I know there's a certain way this is all supposed to go, but I think you'll want to listen first to what I have to say," he said, interrupting Borsa (who, true to character, seemed eager to deal with the matter of the recaptured slaves).

Ragnak frowned. "Go on," he said to Erak, raising one arm in a _go ahead_ gesture—

—and Will felt as if something large and heavy had slammed into him, and as if he was suddenly risen above his body both at once. His eyes unfocused. Erak's voice blurred in his ears like all the colors before him. His body rested, perfectly still, as his mind spun frantically into motion.

He remembered.

He had stood here once, in this same place, next to Evanlyn, before Ragnak and Borsa as they had pronounced their fates. When Erak had handed them over all those months ago. He remembered the strange sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized what had just taken place—that they'd been sold, that from now on he and Evanlyn were pieces of property that belonged to someone else, items for market and exchange. That they would be separated. That the strange period of suspense in between home and fate was suddenly, jarringly, over, and that from this point on (unless they could escape—how could they escape?) they would exist as little more than beasts of burden. Until they died.

What if they died here?

A cool hand touched his own, and Will had the strange sense of re-inhabiting his own body. The hand was Evanlyn's, he realized. He turned his head toward her and saw with newly sharpened vision that her green eyes were dark with concern.

"Are you all right?" she whispered. Will nodded, at a loss—what else was he supposed to say?—and with one last reassuring squeeze she turned her attention back to Ragnak and Borsa in front of them.

_"The girl can go to the kitchens. Put the boy in the Yard."_

Will shivered involuntarily. He looked up just in time to meet Borsa's calculating blue eyes, looking him up and down, and Will's head snapped toward the ground out of a sharp instinct he didn't remember gaining. _Look up,_ he willed himself. _Look up._

He couldn't.

Eyes trained on the cold stone floor beneath them, Will breathed—in and out, in and out—and came back to himself just as Ragnak was ending their case. Will heard Borsa's final argument: "Oberjarl, surely you are within your rights to at least punish the runaways? In order to discourage future ones?"

Will's breath quickened in fear—why, why was he afraid? what had he forgotten that he was frightened of so intimately?—but Ragnak dismissed the matter entirely. "We have more pressing concerns right now. Besides, Erak has sworn for their safety."

"They belong to _you,_ not to Erak," Borsa pointed out, and something unpleasant crawled underneath Will's skin.

"My oath stands," Erak growled, and Ragnak raised his hand in peace (though Will couldn't see it).

"I have enough slaves. And no wish to fight." This last sentence was obviously directed at Erak, who acknowledged it with a solemn nod. "And such an action would, I think, alienate our potential new allies."

"It would."

Halt's voice was cold, deadly and unyielding, but a deep warmth spread through Will at the sound of it. Halt was a formidable enemy. Will had forgotten how safe it felt to be under his protection.

Ragnak nodded. "The matter is dismissed. We'll have a war council tonight." His eyes moved to each of the four Araluens in turn. "Be there."

Halt spoke for them all. "We will be."

* * *

Halt was unsurprised when Will found his way to his rooms that night after council. Dinner had been served in Ragnak's great hall, and Will had been jumpy and on-edge the entire time (though he had made great strides in concealing the fact). It had abated somewhat during the council—Will had always been intrigued by strategy, and he was comfortable in such an atmosphere because it came easily to him—but even so, Halt was glad Will had sought him out.

"Will. Come in."

Halt moved over on the bed he'd been given and patted the empty space next to him. As if he'd been waiting for the invitation, Will closed the door behind him and stepped lightly toward Halt. His movements were quieter now and more thoughtfully taken than they had ever been at home. It was a mark of progress in his training, but Halt wondered with a pang what experiences had been Will's teacher while he himself was absent.

Will settled next to Halt, shoulders hunched and staring straight ahead. Halt wondered if Will would be the first to speak. He usually was. After several seconds of quiet, though, Halt decided to prompt him.

"I'm sorry you have to be back here."

Will gave him a smile, but it was a weak attempt at his normal one. "At least we're inside."

It was a bad joke, and Will knew it. He shrugged when Halt didn't respond. "There's nothing you or anyone could have done." He paused as if a thought had just occurred to him. "You know Evanlyn and I don't blame you for it, right?"

Halt inclined his head toward his apprentice. "That's gracious of you," he said. It was a mark of the maturing he'd done over the past year that Will noticed his mentor's evasive response. Will shook his head.

"You couldn't've done anything differently."

Halt turned his head to study Will. His hazelnut eyes were solemn, and there were furrows in his brow—this was no longer unusual, Halt had learned. But something about Will's posture seemed to be troubled. Halt wondered if it had to do with whatever had spooked him earlier.

Halt turned so he was facing Will. "Something on your mind?" he asked gently, in that soft voice he saved only for his apprentices.

Will swallowed. His eyes looked down and away and he bit his lip as if he were trying to decide whether to speak or not. Halt tried not to be hurt. The days when an apprentice came to their mentor with everything weighing on their heart never lasted, he knew, but he couldn't help but wish they had gone on a little longer between him and Will.

Will wrapped his arms across his middle, a protective barrier between him and the rest of the world. When he spoke, he was hesitant. "I remembered something."

"Oh?" Halt responded neutrally. It wasn't an unusual statement by any means. But Will's tone indicated it had some weight to it.

"I remembered something from when I was here."

Halt blinked. "I thought you couldn't remember what happened while—" he stopped, not sure he would be able to say the words _warmweed_ or _addicted_ and unsure whether Will would want him to anyway. But Will discerned his meaning.

"I thought so, too. Guess not."

Halt blew out a breath and tried to gather his thoughts. "What was it you remembered?"

Will hesitated for a long moment. Halt noticed his knuckles whiten where his hands clutched at his elbows across his middle. At last, he spoke quietly. "Erak giving us to Ragnak. I remember being sold."

Halt bit down on the wrath that surged up inside him at the words. His anger would do Will no good, now, and it wasn't directed at him anyway. All it would serve to do was frighten him—and after their encounter with Ragnak and Borsa earlier, Halt knew that such a display _would_ frighten him. He didn't want Will to be afraid of him, now or ever.

"It happened in the same place we were today," Will added.

Halt pursed his lips. Ragnak's great hall. It was obvious Ragnak and Borsa had established seats, as they had sat in the same places that evening during the war council. Perhaps Will's memory had been triggered by the familiar setting. Or the familiar situation. Things could've gone much worse for the two former slaves today, Halt knew, if Ragnak had been a more temperamental or a less sensible ruler. In a way their position earlier wasn't so far removed from the memory Will had regained.

Halt realized Will was watching him with wary eyes, waiting for a response. "It makes sense that such a memory might come to you, then," he said.

"But." Will stopped, worrying at his lip. It was a new habit—one Halt wasn't familiar with, like he was unfamiliar with so many parts of Will now. "How is it that I remember now? Before, every time I tried to reach back, there was just—fog. What's different?"

Halt shrugged. "The mind is a tricky thing, Will," he said, wishing he had more to offer than _I-don't-knows_ and _maybes._ "None of us understand it fully. Maybe being in that same place triggered that memory. Maybe it was something else."

"So it might happen again?"

The helplessness in Will's voice was a knife in Halt's chest. He wished more than anything that he could fix this for his apprentice, that he could whisk them home and somehow undo all the hurt and confusion of the past months. But he knew such wishes were a waste of energy. Wishes could never change the past. Actions, however, would always change the future. So Halt reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Will's shoulder, grounding him to the here and now, reminding him he no longer had to bear this weight alone.

"It might. Or it might not." He spoke frankly. False reassurances almost always did more harm than good. He could, however, promise one thing. "If it does, I'll be there."

Will hesitated for a moment—jaw tight, eyes haunted, bottom lip trembling—before he threw himself forward into Halt's chest. Halt, who had been anticipating such an action, took Will in his arms and held him there. Will's entire body was tense as if ready for flight. But as Halt held him he relaxed, slowly, like a wounded animal. Perhaps, Halt thought as he reached up to cradle the back of Will's head in his palm, the comparison was not so far off.

Will sniffled against his shoulder, and Halt sighed. "I'm sorry you have to suffer through this," he said, heavy with sorrow. "I wish I could take this from you."

Will didn't respond right away. When he spoke after a few seconds, his voice was soft. "Thank you for being here. Thank you for coming."

Halt didn't realize that he'd instinctively drawn Will closer at those words until his nose pressed down into Will's unruly curls. His heartbeat roared in his ears. That Will would thank him for coming—that Will thought he might have chosen differently—that Will didn't know Halt would _move mountains for him,_ if he could—

Halt spoke in a voice rougher than he would have admitted. "I would never leave you behind, Will. Not while I'm still breathing." Halt heard Will's breath hitch, and he brushed his palm over the back of Will's head in a comforting gesture barely remembered from long ago. "I made you a promise. I will _always_ come for you."

It was perhaps the closest they'd come to verbally acknowledging that the bond between them ran stronger, deeper than that of simply master and apprentice. There were still specific words that went unspoken—words too frightening for Halt, and too unknown for Will—but these were a start. Halt felt some of the tension leave Will's body. His trembling abated slowly, almost reluctantly, and Will allowed himself to come to rest against Halt's side. Simply, for a moment, to be held.

After a long moment, Halt pulled away. Will stiffened and went as if to pull back, but was startled when Halt reached out and dashed the tears away from his cheeks with a businesslike gentleness, brushing Will's long hair back from his face. Will allowed him, a surprised look on his face. "There," Halt murmured. "You're all right." He rested one hand on the side of Will's face for a moment, taking in his apprentice's dark eyes that grew more like his own every day. "You're all right."

Will exhaled feather-light. Halt was glad to see that he seemed calmer now than when he'd arrived. As if something stiff and fearful had come out of him. He settled himself next to Halt, and they sat quietly together. The silence between them was comfortable in a way Halt had missed. He'd ached for this, so many nights—to have his apprentice safe at his side once more—and having it soothed his soul even under such circumstances. At least for now, it was well.

For once, it was Halt's voice that broke the silence. "How are you holding up with everything else?" he asked, soft so as not to disturb the quiet around them. Will's thin shoulders came up in a shrug.

"All right. It's just so much at once."

"If I had been able to spare you this, I would," Halt said quietly. Will turned his head and met his gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed but they were determined, the way Halt had seen them so many times at home, and he felt a flash of relief at the glimpse of the Will he knew.

"I know," Will replied, and Halt knew he meant it. "It's what we have to do. We'll manage."

Halt nodded. _No thanks to him,_ he thought bitterly. But it was true. Will and Evanlyn had managed admirably thus far, picking themselves up and carrying each other through the worst of things. They were strong. They would manage again. They would push through this, push through being back in this place and dealing with the worst of what Will's mind could possibly throw at him, simply because they had no other choice.

"We will," Halt echoed.

They would have to.

**Author's Note:**

> (Chapter 1: tw for discussion of addiction, memory problems, and an experience that might be considered dissociating.) 
> 
> There's chapter 1! I'm not rewriting book 4 here, just adding some tidbits where I think they'd fit. It never seemed quite realistic to me that Will didn't remember anything from any of his time in Hallasholm, so I'm going to explore that a little. And add some hugs. Those seem to creep into everything I write.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments make my heart sing! :)


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